


Earth and Sea

by runawynd



Category: Shenmue
Genre: BL, Boys Love - Freeform, M/M, Shounen-ai, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawynd/pseuds/runawynd
Summary: Before him, hasted car headlights turning through the curves of the street before him. Behind him, voices of workers making their commute towards their homes or nearby bars. All of this was unnoted by the man flipping through his journal. He turned another page in automation. But then stopped. He flipped back. That scroll he found in his father’s dojo… What was written on that scroll? If only I could read Chinese. The man thought, boarding a new train of thought. He then found a quick solution. Though he may not know Chinese, he knew of someone who just might be able to translate for him – if said person was willing. - Ryo x Guizhang | WARNING BOYS LOVE





	Earth and Sea

Another day at the pier. Another job well done. But new information was scarce today. It seemed that finding anything on the Mad Angel’s was well-near impossible. Especially given the locals kept what they knew closely to themselves. Understandable, given the Mad Angel’s brutal reputation.

A gust of the harbor’s night January wind whipped at and past Ryo Hazuki, who awaited his next bus to Yokosuka, his home. Ever the patient man, he stood with his feet planted firmly against the pavement, not a hint of hindrance in his manner. Cool, collected, patient, and deliberate. His mind was focused with and only with the task at hand.

Ryo thumbed through his leather-bound journal once more, hoping he’d find some new string of information he might have missed. Something, anything to make sense and get him back on track to learn more about the Chi You Men, and thus… Lan Di.

Before him, hasted car headlights turning through the curves of the street before him. Behind him, voices of workers making their commute towards their homes or nearby bars. All of this was unnoted by the man flipping through his journal.

He turned another page in automation. But then stopped. He flipped back. That scroll he found in his father’s dojo… What was written on that scroll?_ If only I could read Chinese._ The man thought, boarding a new train of thought.

He then found a quick solution. Though he may not know Chinese, he knew of someone who just might be able to translate for him – if said person was willing.

Thinking through things in a most sequential manner, Ryo turned around and headed for the payphone just down the street. He pushed the slightly-stuck door of the booth open and reached for the phone. In went 10 yen, and in went the numbers that rung up Warehouse 8.

The determined Ryo waited a moment as the phone continued ringing until a familiar voice picked up.

“What is it?” The voice of Guizhang Chen rather stated curtly.

With the familiar voice came a familiar fire in Ryo’s chest. For some reason, Guizhang struck a few chords in Ryo that he was very aware of, but unsure of as to why.

Guizhang was brief and hated time-wasters, which Ryo could relate to. Guizhang had experience in martial arts, and though his form was different from that of Ryo’s, he also had a similar relationship of teacher and pupil under his father that Ryo understood all too well. He was sharp, intense, and yet recently began showing Ryo mercies in times of true peril. In fact, they saw eye-to-eye on many levels, and so when trying to pinpoint a reason for the fire searing him inside, the confused Ryo instinctually went into the offense.

“I need to speak with your father,” Ryo said vaguely. Truthfully, either Guizhang or his father would have been most helpful in the situation at hand, but Ryo wouldn’t be so generous saying so to a man he felt as a rivalling ally.

“Father’s away now.”

Anticipating the call coming to an abrupt finish, Ryo insisted, “I need someone who can read Chinese. It won’t take long.”

No response. Ryo gripped the phone tighter in his hand. He felt no other explanation was needed, and was hoping he could convince him. If not, what’s another 10 yen?

An electronic breath in and out later, the deep-voiced response finally came, “Come to Warehouse 8. This better be good.”

When the phone gave a click and reverted to dial tone, Ryo hung up, exited the booth, and walked out again through the cold January air, back again towards the harbor.

* * *

The night, as dark as a midnight woods, left the harbor only navigateable by towering, dim street lamps that lined Ryo’s path with fluorescent orange hues. It was quiet; peaceful. There were a few distant voices, but nothing that struck Ryo as menacing. The only other sounds came from the ocean itself, a soft, sweeping lull that seemed to draw Ryo in as if it was fate.

Ryo had arrived at the entrance door to the Old Warehouse 8. The rigid door gave a startling creak that broke the district’s silence as he entered and shut it firmly behind him.

No Guizhang to greet him at the door. Or any other members of Chen’s group, for that matter. Usually, there was a guard or two, but tonight, it just seemed deserted. Surely, after the phone call, he was expected…?

A shuffling from above and echoing footsteps across a tinny scaffolding. Ryo looked up. As predicted, the dark figure of Guizhang made its way down the steps.

“That was quick.” The older man noted. “I assumed you’d come from Yokosuka.”

That fire. It’s back. Just the voice alone from the older man struck that chord in him. But Ryo kept on task and reached in his backpack for the Chinese scroll. “Could you translate this for me?”

Guizhang made his way across the crowded storehouse and through the shelves of Chinese imported items to approach Ryo and snatch the scroll from his hands. He read it out loud articulately and carefully. The transfer of Chinese characters to Japanese spoken language seemed so seamless to Ryo, who felt a brief pang of admiration.

Guizhang suddenly stopped and looked over at Ryo, who was still putting pieces together. “It’s secret poetry. Only a student that had verb instruction from their master can understand it.”

Realizing he reached a dead end in his investigation, the frustrated Ryo snapped, “Even after reading it, you still don’t know what it means?”

“Was that it?” Guizhang asked, cool against Ryo’s sudden blame. “All that trouble at this time of night for a message you don’t know the meaning of. That’s just like you to chase after something you don’t understand.”

Ryo was never ready to admit defeat. Especially not to him. Besides, there was still something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about this quiet night told him he couldn’t leave just yet. He wouldn’t think of Fuku-san or Inae-san waiting for him back in Yokosuka. He only became overcome by this feeling; this urge to set something straight.

Something about that lit flame.

“Fight me.” He heard himself say, as he instinctually readied himself in his Jiu Jitsu fighting stance.

“Ridiculous.” Yet interest was sparked. “If you have no other business, then…” But when his footing changed ever so slightly, Ryo knew that the off-guard Guizhang wouldn’t say no to a bit of competition and healthy sport.

“Spar with me.”

“Why should I?” The question betrayed his actions. Guizhang had readied himself.

Ryo was first to make a move, jolting a roundhouse kick around to Guizhang’s side, which his opponent easily parried with an open hand. With a new opening, Guizhang attempted a spinning kick of his own aimed towards Ryo’s head, but was blocked by Ryo’s fist that gripped around his ankle.

The opening of the spar started slow. The actual hit count was low, but as the warm up ended, and the heat started to rise, movements became more deliberately erratic. As the fight progressed, both Guizhang and Ryo had experimented with timing, different moves, and different patterns. They noted the strengths, and both found weaknesses.

A spar invigorated Ryo like nothing else could. Fuku-san may have been a little inexperienced for Ryo’s pace, but with Guizhang, his skills seemed so well-matched with his own. So much so, he fought to keep up.

“Why would your father send you to be my bodyguard? I didn’t ask for one.” Ryo jabbed, throwing a fist forward then around his opponent to attempt a one-handed throw from behind.

“Because that hot head will get you into trouble.” With the younger man coming around him, Guizhang used this chance to grab the extended limb, and while knocking his shoulder back, swept Ryo’s leg unexpectedly and completely off balance, forcing him to the ground. A dirty move, to be sure, but it worked like a charm. “And you’re needed.”

The second before Ryo’s head hit concrete, Guizhang slipped his shoe underneath Ryo’s head, cushioning what might have been a concussion.

Momentarily, Ryo laid back against the concrete, winded from the sudden force. He rolled over. All he could feel was heat. Blood racing by a thudding heart. Coolness of the concrete against the side of his head. The brown-eyed man saw lights in his eyes, glazing the dark warehouse in a wave of disorientation.

The deep voice of the Chinese man called down, offering a hand to the fallen Ryo, “Give it up, Hazuki. I won’t be dragging you into a hospital tonight.”

“You…!” Ryo was not ready to surrender and swiped the hand away from him with an outward block. But as he did so, Guizhang grabbed the closed fist from the side, twisting his elbow under and around and knocking him backwards with a light kick.

At this point, Guizhang was out of patience and felt like sportsmanship wouldn’t be enough to convince Ryo to stop. This was very unlike him to be so disorderly. “What are you doing? What’s gotten into…?”

It could happen during a fight. These things happen. But Ryo wasn’t the only one present that knew that it wasn’t the first time he’d had a hard on when encountering the son of Yaowen Chen.

Able to stand firm once more, Ryo almost wished he hadn’t notice Guizhang’s eyes drift below the belt. But there was a slight raise of his opponent’s eyebrows and a pardoned head glance away, which told Ryo that now was the moment to decide whether he should stop or continue.

And thus, his once focused train of thought derailed dangerously. He wanted something that could set him on fire this way. He wanted this intensity. Something that could keep him on his toes in a mutually challenging fight. Something that could keep up with him. Something he’d struggle to keep up with, and not just an easy win like the street scum of Yokosuka.

“Why have you come here?” Guizhang’s sudden voice interrupted Ryo’s own inner voice back into the moment.

“I’ve come for a translation.”

But there was still something…

When a glint of intrigue played at the young Chen’s face, Ryo thought to jump back into the fray. He wanted to pull a move on him while his guard was down. He wanted to slam him into the ground to straddle him unmovable.

But instead, he stunned his partner with words. “You’re needed,” he heard himself say. Strange as those words felt coming from a man whose actions were always formed of independence, they were the only two words that suited how he felt for the other now.

And Guizhang knew. He knew it wasn’t a joke. He didn’t smell any alcohol. He didn’t smell or sense any drugs - he’d seen them all in China. The young Hazuki wasn’t being haphazard; he was being sincere. But it wasn’t like him to be so distracted by this kind of nature. Even his breathing wasn’t paced for battle like he’s usually capable of. _Is he asking for permission? Does he actually want…?_

But Guizhang didn’t wish to defile this dragon boy without consensus. He would not allow anything to happen that the dragon himself didn’t wish.

As he contemplated, Ryo worked his hand on the zipper to loosen the tight grip his jeans had around him. “Why the sudden compassion?” He taunted.

“Hazuki… You want this?” He had to make sure.

“I… I’ve wanted this.”

That was all the permission he needed. Time to defile the dragon. _I’ll gladly give it._ “…Upstairs.”

* * *

The sex was like a spar. Neither one topping the other, a constant fight between two prideful men, neither wishing to be dominated. Neither one allowing the other an easy release while they exploited every weakness found during battle. It was familiarly hot and heart-pounding, but of a different, intimate scale that neither man had experienced with one another.

Guizhang felt Ryo was a beast that needed to be led into this dance. The Japanese boy was young, and he wasn’t sure how much experience he’d had with this sort of thing.

They sat close, fully-clothed, but with pants undone. The older man let his partner rub against him to feel and explore in his masculinity. And watching Ryo begin to lose himself, Guizhang had a mind to kiss him.

When Guizhang closed in to meet his lips with Ryo’s, Ryo kissed him back. The heat, that fire, made him do it. There was no opposition. Just a rising tension that needed release. And he needed Guizhang to help him get there.

Thrusting against him felt so good, and only lasted a few minutes or so before Ryo started to jolt; the thrusting a foretelling of what was to come if Guizhang let it consume his night. But of course, he wouldn’t allow the dragon boy release. Not yet.

He ran a hand over the other’s hot, stone-hard mass developing below and lowered himself to remove Ryo’s pants. Jeans were… to say the least, inefficient. But before he could help Ryo with the removal, the impatient other yanked his hands away and did away with the clothing himself. He reached down through his white undies and grabbed that heated organ like a routine.

Guizhang caught himself involuntarily nodding at first sight of it, rather impressed. But after a quick session of watch-and-learn while his partner jerked off, he took his own hand around Ryo’s tightly, which, to his twisted pleasure, bothered Ryo quite a bit.

“How long has it been since you’ve last done this?” Guizhang jested, starting to ease up to make things more comfortable for the dragon boy. Words may not have been necessary here, but any opportunity to get a rise out of Ryo was a good enough excuse as any.

“It’s been a while.” Ryo replied, surprisingly personal.

“Holding out? Or saving for a woman?” Guizhang countered, as if trying to make him think twice.

More new thoughts then began to swell in Ryo’s mind._ Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve loved Nozomi._ “N… No.” There was a short pang of guilt for thinking of another (joined with the thoughts of a woman while having intercourse) that briefly dwindled his libido. To which, Guizhang took careful note and worked his hand to reappropriate. _But I couldn’t. It never really occurred to me that I was…_

When Ryo felt exhaustion start to kick in, Guizhang knew he’d won the stamina competition. He took great pleasure in seeing Ryo jerk and squirm beneath him, and he wanted to rub it in as it were. “Had enough, Hazuki?”

Ryo growled and in a fit of anger and embarrassment, he decided it was Guizhang’s turn to suffer. Turns out, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find something to make the older man blush.

What started as a fit of passion ended in tenderness. They both collapsed together; Ryo first, then Guizhang. A mutual calm and dizziness as tension felt broken between the two. Ryo’s breath became controlled between the occasional shudders, when Guizhang looked over at him. He felt an overwhelming sensation of compassion and… affection? Could it be he actually cared for him?

“Hazuki,” Guizhang called for attention.

Ryo swallowed at hearing the voice. His eyes were still closed, as he tried to focus and regain any composure he had left before looking Guizhang again in the eyes. He said nothing.

But attention grabbed, Guizhang spoke. “I do care for you.” He said suddenly.

Ryo froze. The first time that night. Was it too soon? It couldn’t have been, given… Either way, Guizhang felt no regret, but simply got up, collected his clothing, and started to get Ryo ready for his trek back home as well. “Do you need me to escort you home? It is my duty.”

* * *

Worry isn’t something that overcomes me. He is a young man starting a journey that – I believe – will be his downfall.

It was in the stars that we would meet. That he would challenge me. Entice me. That he would pierce my very core with his intense and passionate flame.

But I understand full well that another meeting with him is not written in the stars. He might not ever return. In fact, I’m counting on it. He’ll venture forth on a mission that has only two possible outcomes. He’ll accomplish what he’s set off to do and return an empty man, or ultimately lose himself to the blind rage that has kept him wildly going forward and die there a broken man. Hasn’t it occurred to him that seldom solace can be found in revenge?

Either way, the ending to his story will not involve me. Why should he return? Perhaps he’ll be drawn to China, where he’ll stay. Perhaps, even if me and my father travel to Hong Kong, there’s no possibility of meeting him again, is there?

I feel like the earth, lying dormant and calm, while he’s like the sea. A current bringing luck, both good or bad, to the shores of my soul.

…No. I can’t let him go.

I’ll plead with my father to have me go with him. As a bodyguard. As an ally. As…

Even if no one believes in his mission, I do. That dragon has seared me with his flame that I have no intention of letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> Quite frankly, I am shocked at the lack of Shenmue BL there is out here on the world wide webs, and so I saw a problem, and made a solution~ Here’s some Shenmue smut for any fellow fan-darlings who need this as much as I did. (I know you’re out there!)
> 
> If you're interested in supporting me and my writing, [see my Etsy & eBay shops](https://runaskyewright.com/runasdoujinshistash.php) for yaoi doujinshi! My **full fanfic archive** can be found on my website, [runaskyewright.com](https://www.runaskyewright.com/).
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


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